


This Must Be The Place

by MittenWraith



Series: Wild Wild Life [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Doctor Castiel (Supernatural), Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Tattoo Artist Dean Winchester, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith
Summary: Seven years after their profound meeting, Cas knows he's exactly where he was always meant to be.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Wild Wild Life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559668
Comments: 31
Kudos: 262





	This Must Be The Place

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over a year ago, so in a strange way it's a prequel to Lifetime Piling Up, even though the events take place seven years later. Lifetime Piling up was as yet the unwritten "backstory" I based this story on. If you've read that, then this will hopefully be incredibly satisfying. If you haven't read it, don't fret! This is just as easily consumed as a cute one-shot, though I'd hope you'd enjoy that story, as well. :'D

It’s the sort of day that leaves Cas desperate for some reminder that life isn’t all trauma and tragedy. He’s finished his shift at the hospital, where one of his patients lived and the other didn’t. It’s the reality of his life as a trauma surgeon, and he’s long ago accepted the fact he’s not God, that he can’t save everyone. It doesn’t stop him from trying.

He’s too worn out from five hours of surgery and a heart-wrenching talk with a man’s grieving family members to bother changing his clothes. Cas ditches his pristine white lab coat and slams the door of his locker. There was something he could do to turn the day around. Something impulsive, but something he’d also been planning for a long time; saving it up for the perfect moment.

Something life-affirming.

Cas pulls on his coat, the lapel catching on the hospital identification clipped to the pocket of his scrub shirt, and walks purposefully out the emergency room door. He waves to Alex the charge nurse at the desk and to a few other people who notice him leaving, but after the day he’s had nobody tries to hold him up when he looks so determined to leave. He’s grateful for that small mercy.

It’s raining as he pulls his car out of the parking garage and drives on autopilot. He sees the shop every day on his way to work and every night as he drives back home. Tonight he lucks out. There’s an empty parking spot right in front of the door, like it was meant to be. He pulls in without a second thought and shuts the engine off. He sits there for a minute, his head resting back against the seat as he basks in the welcoming glow of the blue and yellow neon sign in the window, the light streaked and shattered through the raindrops rolling down his windshield. It’s raining even harder now, and Cas just smiles to himself. It feels right. Everything feels right for once that day.

He pats down his pockets to be sure he has everything-- phone, keys, wallet-- and then readies himself for a mad sprint across the sidewalk through sheets of rain to the shelter of the shop’s awning. The familiar neon-lit window looks so different up close than it does when he’s driving past. The glowing Winchester Tattoo logo is clearly visible from the road, but the dozens of drawings that frame the sign and almost completely obscure the view into the shop from the sidewalk are another story entirely. On closer examination, each of them is easily worth a thousand words.

Cas thinks to himself that if the weather were being more cooperative he could spend hours giving every last drawing the attention it deserves. Then again, he also knows he’d only be delaying the inevitable. He’d talked himself into this months ago, and then waited so long for this moment. He wasn’t about to talk himself out of it now. This was definitely what he wanted, so why would the thought of actually going through with it fill him with dread?

He’s a surgeon, dammit. He has no trouble helping others deal with physical pain, but this is something potentially far more terrifying than that. This would be forever.

Cas closes his eyes, heaves in a fortifying lungful of cold, humid air and then opens the door. He’s greeted with a warm, inviting roil of heat and light and sound. The tinkling of a dozen tiny bells hanging above the door provides an uncanny counterpoint to Led Zeppelin playing on the stereo, several quiet conversations and the intermittent buzzing of a tattoo gun. It’s the strangest combination of things to inspire a feeling of ease and contentment, but as he looks around the warmly lit shop and acknowledges its occupants Cas can’t help feeling an inviting sense of  _ home _ .

The man behind the front counter hunches over a sketch as a customer describes the artwork he’s commissioning, pointing out a detail that the artist erases and then redraws to the customer’s satisfaction. The artist sets his pencil down and continues to study his work, standing up straight and clasping his hands behind his back as he arches into a stretch. The sleeves of his incongruous white lab coat ride up revealing strong arms covered in vibrant tattoos, heaven and hell, light and darkness, somehow both perfectly at home together as if he carried a piece of each extreme in either hand. Cas can’t help the quiet laugh at the sight, how similar the coat is to the one he’d left at the hospital, and yet how startlingly different this one appears in context draped over the shoulders of this beautiful man who looks more like a punk rocker with his faded Metallica t-shirt and ink-stained fingers than a medical professional.

Where his coat is embroidered  _ Dr. Castiel Novak _ above the pocket, the artist has chosen to create his own name tag in a swirling riot of color. The name  _ Dean _ is written in a bold script across a hand-drawn banner surrounded by bird wings and wildflowers. Cas wonders what his colleagues would think if he showed up at the hospital with a similar badge, and laughs a bit louder.

He finally garners a glance from Dean, who gives him a little nod and a wink to let him know he’ll be with him shortly. Cas nods back and then distracts himself by observing the shop’s other occupants. One artist, a young blonde woman, is entirely focused on her work while the man in her chair whimpers through the pain of a shoulder tattoo. Another older artist meticulously sets up her station for one of the customers waiting on the sofa off to Cas’s left. The three girls look barely old enough to be getting tattooed at all, yet they eagerly flip through the photo albums labeled with each of the artist’s names-- Claire, Jody, Donna, and of course Dean-- commenting on the pictures as they wonder in equal measure at how good they look and how much each one must’ve hurt. He’s entirely bemused by the girls when he hears Dean finishing up with his client.

“So if you’re good with that, I can fit you in next Tuesday at four,” Dean says to the man, who nods and hands over fifty bucks as a deposit.

“Sounds good to me,” the man says. “Been wanting to get that done for years.”

Dean puts the money in the cash drawer and prints out a receipt that doubles as an appointment reminder while Cas sidles up to get a closer look at the artwork. It’s two birds in flight, circling around each other, that he recognizes as arctic terns. Cas glances up at the man, who catches him looking but only smiles back at him.

“For me and my wife,” he says. “Arctic terns mate for life, but they’ve got the longest migration of any birds in the world. Their entire lives are one endless road trip together. Well, in a manner of speaking.” The man laughs.

Cas glances at Dean to see him smiling curiously at him, as if he’s waiting to see what Cas has to say on the subject-- of tattoos or arctic terns or gruff old men deciding that’s how they want to commemorate the love of their life.

“Congratulations on finally going through with the tattoo, and for having someone you cherish to share your life with. It’s a beautiful piece.”

Dean’s smile brightens for a moment at Cas’s reply, his green eyes filling with a captivating mirth.

“So,” Dean says, leaning in and making a show of reading the identification badge still clipped to Cas’s shirt, “Dr. Novak, what brings a classy, upstanding doctor like you into my humble little den of iniquity tonight? Just getting out of the rain for a minute, or are you thinking about getting a tattoo?”

The customer belts out a startling laugh, but Cas pays him no mind.

“I noticed you’re still open, and I’ve had an idea for a tattoo for a while now. Would you prefer I schedule an appointment, or are you free right now?”

Dean looks him up and down and grins. “For you? I think I can spare a couplea minutes. What are you thinking?”

The girls on the sofa giggle at the unfolding drama, whispering to each other behind their hands. Mr. Arctic Terns says what the girls are either too polite or too shy to say aloud.

“Ooh, are you sure about that? You’re a doctor, you must know it hurts, and how painful the laser is for folks who regret their ink later.”

Cas smiles mildly at the man and slides off his coat, laying it on the counter beside Dean’s sketchpad. “Yes, I’m fully aware.” He continues stripping off his scrub top, the ID badge clinking against the glass countertop as he sets it down as well, leaving him in a heather grey long-sleeved henley that clings to the defined muscles of his shoulders, back and arms. Dean raises an eyebrow but doesn’t otherwise object to the strip tease.

The other customer nods seriously as Dean folds his arms across his chest and bites his lip to keep from laughing aloud. Cas appreciates it, as well as the mischievous glint in Dean’s eyes.

“I’m just saying, medicine doesn’t seem like a profession that looks kindly on tattoos.” He turns to Dean. “No offense to your profession, but I ain’t never seen a doctor with ink.”

Cas just sighs and casts a wistful look at Dean, who shrugs and waits to see what he’ll do next. Jody’s finished setting up her station but she stands back beside Claire, whose tattoo gun has gone quiet as they both watch and wait to see what will happen next. Even the three giggling girls are practically holding their breath at this unusual series of events. Cas barely even registers their presence as he reaches down and tugs up the hem of his henley, then whips it over his head.

“I dare say you’ve seen at least one tattooed surgeon,” Cas says, never taking his eyes from Dean and only peripherally registering the little gasps from the three girls at the unveiling. Not only is Cas a physical work of art himself, his skin is all but covered in glorious illustration.

“Well then,” Arctic Tern Guy says, scratching his head and then moving toward the door with a little chuckle. “Guess you learn something new every day. I’ll see you Tuesday, Dean,” he says, and then the bells tinkle and a gust of cold wind sends a shiver across Cas’s exposed back before the door shuts again behind him.

Cas’s shoulders settle again like a bird folding his wings, which is the visual illusion he gives with the broad set of wings tattooed across his shoulder blades and down his arms past his elbows. Above the wings and up to the base of his neck is an expanse of outer space, the black punctuated by bright stars and a glowing pink and purple depiction of the Heart Nebula, the greenish streak of a comet piercing it like an arrow. Below his wings blooms a garden of vines and wildflowers populated by a dozen or more frolicking bees. Heavens and Earth.

Through the entire show, Dean and Cas just smile at each other until Dean finally cracks. “Guess you told him, sunshine.”

Cas just shrugs and-- to the three girls’ dismay-- begins dressing again. “It always disappoints me when people assume that the appearance of someone’s skin has any bearing on their competence or their professionalism.”

“You’re a regular crusader,” Dean adds, also looking a little disappointed that Cas put his shirt back on. “So did you just stop in to fight social injustice?”

Cas steps up close to the counter, reaching into the back pocket of his dark blue scrub pants and shaking his head. “No, I really am interested in another tattoo, and I believe you’re the only person I’d trust with it.”

Dean’s smile returns. “Well I hope I’m worthy of that kinda faith.”

Cas nods, slowly edging his way around the end of the counter until he’s practically toe to toe with Dean. “You’ve proven that to me over and over again, every day for the last seven years. I hope I’m worthy in return.” He drops down onto one knee and holds out his hand, a simple gold ring in his outstretched palm. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t ever want to imagine a day without you in it. I love you, Dean. Will you marry me?”

Dean stares down at him for a second, and that terror that had held Cas back from asking sooner begins to creep up inside him. The pain of a tattoo needle’s got absolutely nothing on this. But Dean blinks and then pulls Cas to his feet, grabbing him up in a tight hug and planting an awkwardly sloppy and slightly frantic kiss on him as Dean tells him yes over and over again.

“Hot damn,” Claire’s client says and the rest of the shop erupts in a chorus of delighted awws.

Relief and joy flood through Cas, washing away his entirely baseless fear and making room for the certainty that Dean will always be his. Jody and Claire offer them fond congratulations, as do the three girls, before Jody brings one of them back to her station and she and Claire both get back to work.

“That was unexpected,” Dean says the minute everyone’s attention moves on from them, and admiring the way the ring looks on his hand before pulling Cas in for another kiss. “How long you been planning that one?”

Cas shrugs. “A long time. Years, maybe. On some level, probably since the first time I walked into your shop.”

Dean nods, too overcome to even tease him. He clears his throat and leans against the counter, pulling Cas close. “So did you really have another tattoo in mind? Or was that just an excuse to come see me at work?”

“I gave you a ring, and I was hoping you’d be willing to give me one too.”

It’s a ring he’ll never be able to remove, and one he’d never want to. When Dean’s finished inking it into his skin, he removes his gold band and teaches Cas how to give his very first tattoo. It’s the sort of day that’s marked indelibly in their skin, and all the way down to their souls.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. For more of my brand of nonsense, please see the vast quantity of fic I've posted here, or for real-time nonsense, you can find me on the tumbls. I'm [mittensmorgul](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com).


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